


Warm In Your Arms

by vodkaandlime



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Hotels, M/M, Mild Smut, Romantic Fluff, Snow, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodkaandlime/pseuds/vodkaandlime
Summary: Brian and Roger have a romantic weekend break.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	Warm In Your Arms

Roger thinks of the saying ‘beast with two backs’ as Brian thrusts into him from behind. He feels at one with Brian – part of him – is this what intimacy means? Roger feels he is joining with another to become one – to become whole. 

Brian was slow at first – teasing – but now he is picking up speed – accelerating – driving into Roger – driving him towards ecstasy.

Roger clings to the smooth wood of one of the posts of the four-poster bed. The hotel was once a grand mansion and the elegant rooms are furnished in such a way that it is like stepping into the past. 

Roger groans and tips his head back – he feels Brian’s teeth nip at his neck – sucking – wanting to possess him – to mark him. Brian’s hand touches his weeping cock and Roger shudders. “Please...” he gasps. 

“So lovely,” Brian pants appreciatively, “Holding onto that post like a lady having her corset laced tighter.”

“Oooh,” Roger gasps, “Would you like me to dress up sometime?” It is something they have spoken of before. 

Brian makes a strangled noise which Roger deciphers as being in favour of this idea. He tucks it away to the back of his mind for later. He is entirely in the present just now as Brian comes and Roger follows shortly afterwards – glad of Brian’s arm around his waist, holding him up. 

000

The bathroom is huge – almost the size of their whole flat – and the bath is set on a ledge in the centre of the room as if it is there to be worshipped rather than used. They bathe together – the vast expanse of the tub is almost a disappointment – there is fun in being squashed together. “It’s almost a swimming pool,” Brian laughs.

“Once we’re rich and famous would you have a bath like this in your own home?” Roger asks. 

Brian immediately shakes his head. “No,” he states, “Well, the actual style of bath might be okay, although I’d like to see what else is on offer, but no, not like this – not set on a plinth!”

Roger smiles and touches Brian’s nose with his foam covered finger leaving a bubbly mark. Brian laughs and splashes a little water at Roger in retaliation. From their elevated position Roger can see out of the window. “It’s snowing,” he informs Brian who has his back to the window. “Big fat flakes of snow.”

000

Brian silently curses himself for not looking at a weather forecast. What if the snow lies? He supposes that at least they are not due to leave until Sunday. It is Friday night. Any snow will be gone by Sunday, surely? It is the middle of February, after all. The weather should be improving, shouldn’t it?

They are spending Valentine’s weekend at a posh hotel. Brian is glad now that they have opted for the package that includes all meals and some drinks. Roger is flushed from the heat of the water – pink and sweet and lovely. “You’re gorgeous,” Brian breathes.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Roger tells him with a grin.

000

Roger’s shirt collar just covers the mark Brian has left on his neck but Roger is aware of it nonetheless as they enter the grand dining room. Was it a ballroom once, perhaps? He imagines women in colourful dresses swirling around the room in the arms of gentlemen in immaculate suits. The atmosphere of wealth and grandeur is intoxicating and also slightly intimidating. This is not their world. He is glad of Brian’s reassuring presence.

There are large windows overlooking a now snow covered lawn. Snow is still drifting downward and settling softly – deepening – building. The room is full of couples – all here for romantic getaways for two. The conversation as they weave through the room to their table is mainly about the snow. Roger hears murmurs of concern about the state of the roads. He is glad they don’t have to worry about that tonight, at least. 

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Brian says, following his gaze as they are seated by one of the windows.

“It is,” Roger agrees. “The largest snowflakes known about to date were thirty-eight centimetres wide, imagine that size of snow!”

Brian grins. He has a soppy expression on his face. “I love you.”

“Is it for my snowflake knowledge?” Roger nods, “I know it’s impressive!”

Brian laughs. “It’s partly for your snowflake knowledge,” he tells Roger. “Do you know why they appear to be white although they are ice crystals and you would therefore expect them to be clear?”

Roger shakes his head. They are offered wine and he has to wait to find out about the whiteness of snowflakes until wine has been debated and selected – sparkling rose. 

“It’s due to diffuse reflection of the whole spectrum of light. The little crystal facets of the snowflakes scatter the light,” Brian explains. 

“I am very impressed with your snowflake knowledge, Mr May,” Roger says happily. 

The food is pink or red or white and heart or flower shaped. Roger had thought that such a posh hotel might be more restrained. He admits to himself that he feels slightly more at home with this onslaught of almost aggressively themed food.

The snow continues to fall and Roger realises some couples are leaving. He hears an uneasy murmur of, “While the road is still passable.”

He looks at Brian. “Should we cut the whole thing short and rush off?” he asks. 

Brian shakes his head. “Let’s stay. We’ve paid for the whole weekend. If we’re snowed in by Sunday we’ll worry about it then.”

Roger grins. “Hello reckless devil-may-care Brian!”

Brian laughs. “I can’t be sensible and boring all of the time.”

“You’re never boring,” Roger assures him.

000

Their room is cosy and they curl up together on the window-seat, wrapped in a soft blanket watching the snow swirling downwards. Brian presses his lips against Roger’s. Roger tastes of wine and after-dinner coffee. Roger’s hand reaches up – his fingers tangling in Brian’s curls. “You’re delicious,” Roger tells him. 

The snow is settling on the window ledge now. Flakes cling to the window-panes. It is pretty – and intricate – fragile – and dangerous – delicate - and potentially deadly. Brian shivers – although the room is not cold. “Are you cold?” Roger wonders.

Brian shakes his head. “I was thinking how snow is so pretty but also so dangerous,” he tells Roger.

Roger briefly looks sad. He kisses Brian. “Hopefully everyone is safe and watching it through a window as we are,” he wishes. 

000

The room has sweet little hot water bottles with cute knitted covers and Brian boils the kettle and fills one for Roger. Roger’s face lights up. “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me,” he sighs, fluttering his eyelashes at Brian. “Does that mean I’m getting old?”

“Appreciation of a hot water bottle is age-less,” Brian assures him with a grin. 

000

The following morning the hot water bottle is unceremoniously flung from the bed as they explore each other’s bodies beneath the covers. They have another leisurely bath together. “It’s not my perfect bathroom,” Roger muses, “but I could get used to it.”

At breakfast the fried eggs are heart shaped. Roger thinks this must be a pain in the arse for the people doing the cooking and sends a silent wave of appreciation in the direction of the kitchen. 

The dining room is much less full this morning. Whether that is because many people left the previous evening or because many are nursing hangovers is unclear.

Their waiter tells them the roads are, “Passable with care, Sir. We’ve cleared our car park and driveway of course.”

000

Brian lovingly wraps Roger in his exceptionally long woollen scarf and they venture outside, their boots crunching into crisp deep snow. “I really love that crumping sound you get walking in snow,” Brian tells Roger happily. 

“Oh, yes,” Roger beams, his breath visible in the cold air, “And I love leaving footprints in snow.” Roger confides in Brian that he tries to, “Always choose boots with an interesting pattern on the sole just for that very reason.”

Brian grins. “I love you.”

“For my boot choices?” Roger kisses Brian’s cheek, “You have very good taste!”

Someone has made a row of little snow ducks on a low wall in the garden. “They must have a mould,” Brian suggests.

“They’re cute.” Roger is busy fashioning a little snow mouse with twig whiskers and raisin eyes and nose. Roger has produced a little box of raisins from a coat pocket and offers Brian one.

Brian finds this charming. I am charmed, he thinks. Roger is charming. Brian’s Prince Charming perhaps – someone straight out of a fairy-tale romance. “Your mouse is cuter.” He gathers Roger close to him, holding him tightly. “You’re cuter.”

000

“Just as likely to melt in your hands,” Roger tells Brian breathlessly. Apparently Brian’s soppiness is catching. 

The pond is partially frozen. The real ducks are huddled sulkily in the centre where there is still liquid. 

They politely greet another strolling couple. “Do you think we could make a snowman?” Roger wonders. “Do you think we would get thrown out? We’d get thrown out, wouldn’t we?”

“For lowering the tone,” Brian grins, “We could make a snowman, though, if you’d like to.”

“Hello again, reckless Brian,” Roger laughs. “I think I’m happy with my snow mouse.”

000

They have hot chocolate in the un-seasonably leafy conservatory which offers good views of the snowy landscape. They sit in companionable silence. 

Lunch is served in a smaller room than the dining room with a cosy log fire and afterwards Brian takes Roger back to bed. He wonders if some distant cave-man corner of his brain senses the inherent danger of the snow and wants some life-affirming and warming sex. Or maybe it’s because he always wants Roger. He particularly enjoys divesting Roger of all his layers of warm clothing. “Like unwrapping a gift,” he announces happily to Roger.

000

There are far fewer people at dinner confirming Roger’s suspicion that a lot of people panicked and left the previous day. Of course they may have been there for dinner only or only there for one night.

The food is different but similarly rose or heart shaped and predominantly red or pink in colour. They must get through a lot of food colouring at this time of year Roger reflects. They drink champagne as a last-night-of-their-break treat. “I adore you,” Roger tells Brian softly as their champagne flutes chime together.

000

The roads have been cleared by the time they leave on Sunday. It is slightly anti-climatic, Brian thinks. “It’s not the dramatic battle through the snow I thought it might be,” he tells Roger.

“I’m sure we can embellish the tale when we’re telling other people,” Roger grins, “Our epic journey home through the snow and ice...” He kisses Brian. “I had the most gorgeous weekend. Thank you.”

“I enjoyed it too,” Brian brushes Roger’s cheek with his fingertips. “You’re my favourite person to be snowed in at a luxury hotel with.”


End file.
